


Little Family

by clairell



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Play, Bed-Wetting, Daddy!Bruce, Daddy!Thor, Fluff, Headspace, Hurt/Comfort, Infantilism, M/M, Mommy!Natasha, Non-Sexual Age Play, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, daddy!Tony, little!steve, nsap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 09:46:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10941957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairell/pseuds/clairell
Summary: Oneshots containing little!Steve and his little family - Momma Natasha, Baba Bruce, Papa Thor, Daddy Tony, and Uncles Phil and Clint.





	1. A Little Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> Thunderstorms - a common theme on this account lol - and a panic attack for little Steve. Enjoy!

It’s almost funny how the top floors of the tower seemed to sway with the wind of the thunderstorm, almost funny how the raindrops looked like daggers as they pelted the floor-to-ceiling windows, almost funny how thunder echoed through the rooms and hallways like a menacing call from the gods.

It was funny, of course, to Tony Stark who had built the Tower to withstand more than anything, and Thor, who sometimes enjoyed the occasional thunderstorm which he didn’t cause. The two sat in one of the kitchens, Tony drinking something all mixed up in a highball glass, and Thor drinking his third Asgardian (“simply more flavorful than Earth’s”) beer. Natasha was in her room, no doubt, probably reading—something she had gotten into recently.  Clint was with Coulson at some top-secret location, most likely waist deep in a make-out session instead of paperwork.  Bruce was in the lab; he liked to be in the lab in the small hours of the night. It seemed that everyone and everything was in the proper place as the world outside raged against itself.

Perhaps the only one in the Tower who didn’t find the thunderstorm funny in the least was Steve, who sat upright in his bed at the gunshot sound of thunder.  His heart leapt out of his chest with every breath, threatening to tear away from him.  He wrapped his arms around himself in attempt to keep himself together.  The lightning strobed.  The thunder roared.  The wind whipped his brain around his head, and before he knew it, he was standing on two shaking legs, tapping his hands wildly around him to find the door in the dark.  He opened the door and shuffled his sock feet down the hallway.

He presented himself as the _ding_ of the elevator and the JARVIS introduction, “Mr. Rogers is arriving on this floor.”

Tony stood and started down the dark hallway.  A large body careened into him, nearly knocking him over, but he rebounded by wrapping his arms around it.  “It’s just a storm, Little Captain.”

“I need…I need something.”  The voice was so small, it hardly seemed that it came from the man who was known as Captain America.  So small, trembling violently, muffled by the fabric of Tony’s t-shirt and the warmth of his chest.

“What do you need?”

“Daddy?” He asked, peeling himself away just long enough to let Tony see the desperation in his tear-filled eyes.

Not missing a beat, Tony pulled him in, closer, harder.  “Daddy’s always right here.”  

Steve let his breaths unload, one heaving, trembling thing after another, filing out of him as if he’d been holding them in.  He hiccuped, choked on his tears for a moment, then let Tony wipe the tears away from his face.

“Do you want to watch some TV?  Get the thought out of your mind?”  Steve nodded like a bobblehead.  Tony takes his hand and pulls him into the kitchen, into the light, where Thor is already attempting to use the microwave to make a cup of hot chocolate.

“Steven, I’m making you a drink. Would you like a few of those small, squishy, white cylinders?”

Tony cracked a smile.  “Marshmallows, you oaf.”  He turned to Steve as he sat on the sofa in the living room.  “You want marshmallows in your hot cocoa?”

Steve gave a tiny, microscopic nod as he pulled his feet up on the sofa and his knees into his chest.  Tony nodded to Thor, then curled himself up next to Steve in the big spoon position, wrapping his arms around him.

“What do you want to watch?”

Steve shrugged his shoulders.

Tony clicked through the Netflix library.  “There’s _Tangled_ , _Big Hero 6_ , _Brave_ …”

“Is there _Up_?”  His small voice asked, cracked with fear.  His eyes, drier now, still had that sheen of tears, and his lashes were all stuck together.

Tony hesitated.  “That one’s a little sad, buddy, don’t you think?”

“Only in the beginning,” said another voice.  A honey-colored teddy bear dropped into Steve’s arms.  He sat up a little to see Bruce walking through.  “JARVIS told me that someone needed a teddy in the living room.”

“Thanks, Baba” he nearly whispered, burying his face in the bear’s soft fur, smelling on it his own familiar cologne.  “Can we watch the movie, Daddy?”

And Tony Stark—Iron Man, mind you—was not one to be influenced.  But those ocean-wet, tossing, turning eyes pulled at something in him, and he felt his heart was a little swollen.  He sighed.  “Sure.”

Thor was there with the hot chocolate and a kiss for the forehead.  Steve took a sip.  “Is the temperature adequate?” He asked.

A small smile found its way to Steve’s lips as the theme music started and warm, thick cocoa poured down the back of his throat.  And the little smile was framed by a chocolate mustache, which was Thor’s answer in itself.  He sat on the sofa next to them, letting Steve rest his head on his massive lap.  He twisted his light hair between his fingers and gently brushed his red cheeks.

Bruce sat at the other end of the sofa and tickled Steve’s socked pair of feet ever-so-lightly to keep that little smile on his face through the sad parts.

And then, just as the balloons had appeared on the roof of the house, the elevator _dinged_ and produced a pleasantly yawning Natasha.  “What’s this?”  She asked, feigning offense with her fists on her hips.  “You’re having a cuddle puddle without me?”

Steve let out a little giggle just as the sky cut itself in half with an electric shock of white-hot lightning followed by a crack of thunder that caused even Thor to turn around to look out the window.  The giggle disintegrated into a cry of terror.  Steve slammed his eyes shut and threw his hands over his ears.

“Hey, hey, hey,” they all cooed, all touching him at once, patting his thighs, petting his hair, kissing his cheeks.  He stayed frozen in position, so still it seemed that he was holding his breath.

Natasha walked over—she was wearing pajamas, which was a rare sight—and knelt down in front of Steve.  She took his hands from his ears and held them, resting them against his legs.  “Can you open your eyes?” She asked, getting close, her voice so soft.

“Momma?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she said.  “It’s me.  Can you open your eyes for me?”

Steve blinked, tears cascading down again.  “Scary,” he whispered.

“I know, I know,” she soothed, caressing his face in the cup of her palm.  “But you’re okay, aren’t you?  You’re not hurt?”

A squeaking, “No.”

“And why’s that?”

A blank stare.

“Because you’re in a room with _superheroes_. The strongest people in the world.”  She looked pointedly at Thor, “The universe, even.”  She wiped a stray tear away with her thumb.  “Don’t you think if there was something bad out there trying to get to you that we would stop it right away?”

“Uh huh.”

“That’s not very convincing,” she teased, digging her fingers at his sides.

That smile poked through. “Yeah, you get all the bad guys.”  He leaned forward to give Natasha a hug.

“Now, what movie are we watching?”  She asked, wedging herself into the negative empty space on the sofa.  “ _Up_?  Is that the one about the flying carpet?”

Steve giggled a little.  “No!” He said as the old man used the garden hose to tie himself to his house.  “It’s about the house with like a billion trillion balloons, ‘member?”

“I remember.”

They watched the rest of the movie like this, all on one sofa and tangled up around each other, and every time a thunderclap rang through, they would crack a joke or tickle toes or offer a marshmallow or two.  And the storm began the move out, taking with it all the fear in Steve’s little head.  His eyelids began to droop, and his body became limp.  His thumb wandered up to his mouth and he suckled on it gently as the movie drove toward the end, and by the roll of the credits, he was fast asleep.

Thor carried him up to his bed and tucked in the duvet all around him.

And soon, the whole world was silent and still with sleep.  The whole Earth seemed to breathe that heavy breath of rest, the storm had long subsided, and Steve’s dreams were of the happiest sort—his little family, made up of the unlikeliest bunch.  Thor thought he saw a little smile on Steve’s face as he slowly crept out of the room.

Thunder roars, and thunder rumbles, but sometimes thunder is Papa tucking you into bed after a long, scary night.  Maybe thunder isn’t so bad after all.


	2. Little Accidents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has a little accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you all are liking this fic. This is my first time writing for this fandom, and I'm honestly so hooked. You guys are all very lovely people. 
> 
> Enjoy!

****

The bed was cold when Steve woke up from his nap, though he didn’t realize it at first; he went into that post-nap stupor.  His eyes were a little blurry, and so was his head.  His mouth felt dry, and what time was it anyway?  He vaguely remembered Natasha reading him a story before he fell asleep.  It took him a few minutes of cat stretches and yawns to fully snap out of it.  And that was when he realized.

He swallowed hard and lifted up the covers slowly, as if they might burn him.  He covered his mouth with his hand when he saw it—the wet spot on his briefs, the sopping bed below him, and, worse, the sticky patch of fur on his Teddy’s tummy.  

Tears came to his eyes.  _This was not good._

He picked his Teddy up by the arm and dangled it out in front of him.  Someone would make him throw Teddy away if they saw him like this, not to mention the fact that the bear wasn’t really good for a cuddle all covered in urine like that. His Blankie was definitely worse for wear, having migrated under him during his nap.  He looked down at himself.  Clothes.  His tighty-whiteys had a big yellow stain on the front, and his t-shirt hadn’t necessarily made it out unscathed. 

His bedroom door opened a crack and Bruce poked his nose in.  “You awake, Little Captain?  Wanna get up and go play a game or watch a movie or something?”

Steve panicked.  He grabbed the duvet, which had minimal damage, and threw it over his lap, puddling it around his waist.  He painted a shaky smile on his face.

Bruce walked in the room, and he sensed it immediately—the smell was obvious, and of course he knew Steve’s guilty grin from a mile away. “What’s up, buddy?”  He asked warily, placing his hands out in front of him as if to signify he wasn’t going to be angry with him.  “How was your nap?”

“Good!” Steve said with a little too much enthusiasm.

Bruce nodded.  “Wanna come downstairs?  Momma said something about cookies—”

“No, that’s okay.  I’m…I’m just gonna sit here for a little bit.”  He looked around him for something to use as a better excuse, but all his books were on the shelf, all his toys were in the closet, and Tony had taken his TV away after he was caught watching _Spongebob_ at three a.m.

Bruce shook his head and folded his arms over his chest.  “What’s the blanket for, buddy?”  He asked, knowingly.

“…I’m cold!” Steve blurted out.  “Yeah, I’m super cold.  It’s really cold in here.”  Bruce walked forward and reached out for the duvet.  Steve bit his lip.  “I’m just…just cold, Baba.”

Bruce lifted the blanket, and Steve was immediately in tears.  And as much as Bruce had prepared himself for what lie beneath the blanket, he still cringed when he saw the mess that Steve had made for himself.

“Oh, buddy…”

Steve hid his bright red face with his hands and just _sobbed_.  He didn’t want to see his Baba.  He didn’t want to see _anyone_.  He just wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear from the face of the Earth.

Bruce assessed the damage; Teddy and Blankie had taken rather large hits, and, he couldn’t really tell, but it looked as though the protective mattress pad was soaked through.  But mostly, he was thinking about Steve.

He sat on the edge of the bed in a dry patch and wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulder.  “Who put you down for a nap, little one?”

Steve hiccuped, “Momma.”

Which was odd.  Tony was famous for forgetting things like pull-ups.  His mind always seemed to be in the lab no matter what else he was doing.  And Uncle Clint, of course, was easily swayed by any lower-lip-jutted-out manipulation on Steve’s part.  Thor didn’t typically deal with undergarments.  But Natasha did not forget things like this.

“Stevie…” Bruce started, very slow.  Steve’s whole body quaked in his arms.  “Did you take off your pull-up before nap time?”

There wasn’t a response; Steve only cried harder, like an ocean had swelled up inside of him.  Bruce held the boy tight to his chest, letting the waves crash against his shore.  He let Steve cry himself out before he spoke again.

“Buddy?”  Steve looked up, cheeks still embarrassment pink.  His eyes leaked, and his lashes were all matted together.  Bruce wondered why it had to be that, more often than not, they were seeing Steve like this.  “Can Baba ask you a question?”

Steve nodded slowly, eyes flashing down.

“Why did you take your pull-up off?  You know its against the rules.”

Steve sniffled and wiped his nose on his arm.  “I thought…I tried really hard, and I thought that maybe, maybe I could be dry and then I could be a big boy, and no more pull-ups, and…”  The words tumbled out of his mouth as if they were being poured, and he pulled his arms into his chest.  “I’m sorry.”

“I know, buddy.  Me too.”

He got up and helped Steve to his feet.  “Let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?”  Steve nodded slow.  “And then I think we need to have a little family meeting.”

Steve waddled beside Banner down the hall to the bathroom where he sat on the closed lid of the toilet while he waited for his Baba to run a bath.  He tucked his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead on them.  He didn’t like this at all.  Bruce wasn’t saying it, but he was angry, Steve thought, and he couldn’t help but fixate on that fact.  And the family meeting.  What if they were going to tell him they didn’t want him anymore?

He watched as Bruce poured vanilla-scented bubble bath into the tub.  Was this his last bath?  Was this the last time?  He tried to make up some sort of game plan.  Where would he go?  Brooklyn.  Okay.  But where would he live?  And who would take care of him?  He didn’t have any other family in the world anymore.  Tears prickled at his eyes again.

Bruce snapped him out of the thought, offering him a hand to stand up.  The bath was ready.  Steve stood uncomfortably as Bruce peeled off his sticky t-shirt and helped him step out of his stained briefs.  And it wasn’t like he was ashamed of his body, but he didn’t like the vulnerability of standing in front of his Baba, all naked and sticky and reeking of urine.

“Let’s get you in the bath.”

Steve sat in the bubbles uncomfortably as Bruce took a soapy washcloth over his arms, his legs, his chest.  He paused.

“Do you want me to… or do you want to?” Bruce asked, eyeing the part of Steve that he had purposely covered in bubbles to avoid any further embarrassment.  Steve just shook his head and let his Baba wash his parts.  If this was going to be the last bath, he didn’t want to cause any further problems.

Bruce pulled the plug, and Steve watched the bubbles all swirl down the drain as Bruce helped him out and wrapped him in a warm towel.  “Bet that feels much better, doesn’t it?”

Steve nodded.

Bruce held up a clean pair of underwear for Steve to step into.

“Maybe…maybe I should… wear a…”  Steve pointed to the drawer where the pull-ups were kept.

Bruce kissed him on the forehead.  “I know you’re trying to make up for it, buddy, but it’s okay.  Don’t worry.”  He held out the briefs.  “You don’t have daytime accidents.  C’mon.”

Steve went to the drawer, pulled out a pull-up, and handed it to Bruce.

Bruce gave in.  “If that’s what you want,” he said, helping his little one slip into the pants, and then a pair of sweats.  He pulled a t-shirt over Steve’s head and ran a towel through his messy blond hair.

“Family meeting?” Steve whispered, his voice cracking, still raw from tears, and Bruce didn’t think he’d ever heard Steve sound more scared.

He nodded, and placed his large, warm hand on Steve’s back and ushered him out of the bathroom.  Steve shuffled his feet along to the elevator and JARVIS took them up to the living room, where everyone was sitting on the sofas, even Clint and Coulson.

Steve sat himself down next to Natasha.  His heart throbbed like an aching muscle, pain with every beat.  He wasn’t ready.  He wasn’t ready.  But he tried his very best.

“Why don’t you tell them what happened?” Bruce said, softly, leaning agains the arm of the sofa.  Steve hesitated.  “Go on.”

“I wanted to be a big boy,” he said, voice strained and broken.  “And…so… I took off my pull-up before nap time and hid it under the bed and-and I put underwear on instead and.  And.  I had… an accident and it got all over, and I’m so sorry.”  He sniffled as Natasha pulled him close to her chest.  “I’m sorry.”

“We know, buddy,” Tony said, empathy in his voice.  “We forgive you.”

Steve’s distressed eyes widened.  “Really?”

“Of course,” Nat said, kissing her boy on his cheek.  “It takes a _very_ big boy to admit to breaking a rule, and an even _bigger_ one to apologize for it.”

“So you’re not…you’re not gonna make me go away?”

Thor was visibly taken aback.  “How could you think what we would send you away?”  He asked a little anger in his voice.  He lightened up a little as he saw Steve shrinking away from him.  “You are our precious little Steven.”

“And we all love you very much,” Clint added.

“I love you, too,” Steve said, voice still small.

Tony sighed.  “But…you do know what happens when you break the rules, buddy.”

Steve sat up a little bit.  “Yeah.”

“How many do you think you deserve?”

Steve bit his lip.  “Ten?”  The standard.

Tony nodded.  “Seems appropriate.  Who do you want to do it?”

Steve looked around the room.  And in a room full of biologically enhanced superhumans, trained assassins, and one god, there weren’t really any good options when it came to choosing who should spank you.  But it hardly seemed like that.  Steve just looked around the room, and he saw all of these eyes that just cared for him.  Nothing else.  He felt warm.

“Momma?” He said, finally.  “I’m really sorry I didn’t obey the rules.”  He climbed off the sofa and stood in front of her as she got ready for him.

“I know you are, little pumpkin.”  She pointed for him to drop his pants.  “Pull-up, huh?”

Steve nodded diligently.  “No more accidents.”

Natasha smiled at him.  “What a good boy.”  Steve blushed a little bit and she lowered his pull-up just to wear his bottom met his thighs.  “You know,” she said softly. “Make sure you count.”

They weren’t hard or violent; Natasha could probably leave him with a bruise that would never heal if she wanted to.  No, it just needed to sting a little bit so he’d know where to keep his bottom from the on.  It was over quickly, and Steve was only sniffling as he winced and counted, “Ten.”  Natasha helped him up, helped him get his bottoms back in order, and set him upright.  He went straight for the hug

“You did such a good job, little one,” she said, rubbing circles into his back.  “I’m proud of you.”

“I won’t ever do that ever again, Momma.  I promise.”

She gave him a knowing smile and a kiss on the cheek.  She took a tissue from her pocket and wiped Steve’s eyes and nose.  Steve sat himself down on the couch.  

Bruce leaned over.  “I put your Teddy and Blankie in the wash.  They’ll be dry by bedtime.”

Steve smiled, full of relief.  And once the smile came, no one could resist.

It was time for some well-needed cuddles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update schedule!
> 
> I'd like to hopefully get another chapter uploaded today/early tomorrow, and then maybe another one by the end of the week. :)


	3. Little Good Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has a dry night, so his family rewards him by taking him to the park

****

It was that all-too-familiar Saturday morning scene: The early sun came through those big windows of the Tower, making the whole thing, every pristine and metallic surface, shine.  And the grown-ups were in the dining room.  Tony was running through some program on a StarkPad, and Banner, pretending to be reading the _Times_ , was looking over his shoulder.  Thor was a footrest for Natasha, who was wearing her bathrobe and a pair of slippers, and nursing her second cup of black coffee.

The scene was animated by a set of pitter-pattering feet which ran down the hallway and into the dining room. 

“Do I hear a Little Captain?” Natasha teased loudly enough for him to overhear.  “Uh oh, Papa.  Better put that candy away.”

“Candy?” Steve asked as he entered the kitchen.  He climbed up to sit on Thor’s rather massive thigh. “Where’s the candy, Papa?”

“Momma’s only joking with you, little one.”  Steve sighed dramatically with his shoulders involved, but that iridescent smile never left his lips.  “But we _are_ having pancakes, and it is my understanding that those are your—”

“Favorite!  Those are my favorite!”  Steve wrapped his arms around Thor’s rather massive neck.  “We haven’t had pancakes in _forever_.”

“Not since last Saturday!” Bruce said, a little sarcastically, poking at Steve’s side.  He took one of Steve’s hands.  “Why don’t we go get you changed and then we’ll have our pancakes, okay?”

Steve’s smile grew.   “I don’t need a change, Baba.”  He hopped off of Thor’s lap and dropped his plaid pajama bottoms into a puddle at his feet, revealing a dry pull-up.  “See?  All dry!”

Tony couldn’t help but let out a laugh.  “That’s great, buddy, but let’s keep pants _on_ at the table, alright?”

Steve giggled as he pulled his bottoms back up.  He was in a mood nothing could spoil; everyone was smiling at him.

“Congratulations,” Thor said, sliding forward for another neck hug.  “I’m very proud of you, little one.”  Steve beamed.

Bruce gave him a well-deserved high-five.  Natasha pulled her little boy into her arms and peppered his cheeks with kisses.

“Momma!” He squealed, a hint of sass in his voice.

A chuckle from the kitchen.  “What are we celebrating?”

Steve jumped up and ran over to the man who was well used to these sort of crash landings by now.  “Uncle Clint!  I’m—I made it all night long and no accidents and-and-and it’s the first time in a really really long time!”  

Clint hugged him back.  “Well, it’s a good thing I put chocolate chips in your pancakes, then, isn’t it?”

Steve’s eyes widened.  “Really?  But Daddy _never_ lets me have chocolate chips.”  He looked over at Tony, who rolled his eyes and shook his head at Barton.

“I s’pose times like these call for chocolate chip pancakes, huh?”  Tony beckoned Steve over with his hand.  He wrapped the boy in a one-armed hug.  “I’m so proud of you, Little Captain.”

Steve’s cheeks pinked.  “Thanks, Daddy.”  He took his place at the head of the table and waited patiently for Clint to bring him a steaming stack of pancakes.

It was a special day for Steve—it was the first time in months that he’d had a dry night—so no one said anything as he let his pancakes drown in a swimming pool of maple syrup on his plate.  Bruce only reached over to help cut the flopping, soggy things into smaller bites.  And Steve just beamed like an actual ray of sunshine as he shoveled his pancakes into his mouth, and maybe that joy that emanated from him made up for the fact that he was eating four days worth of sugar in one sitting.

“What are we doing today?” He asked, fork still in the air, syrup dripping down his chin.

Tony leaned over to wipe his face clean.  He looked around the table at the others and shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know, Stevie.  What do you want to do?”

Steve’s eyes widened.  “Park!” He blurted.  “I wanna go to the park!”

The grownups in the room exchanged looks.

There were obvious issues with that.  First of all, someone would recognize at least one of them, even out of uniform, and they couldn’t have any videos of this aspect of their private lives going viral on the internet.  And there was also the issue that there would likely be little kids around.  Steve could play nice, but he had the strength of ten men and the mindset of a three-year-old, so.  Do the math.

“Or we could make cupcakes,” Bruce suggested.  “Yeah? You’ve been wanting to do that since Wednesday.”

“No, I wanna go to the park!”

Bruce chuckled and covered his eyes with his hand.  “Thought so,” he whispered to himself.

Natasha took Steve’s hand.  “Are you sure there’s nothing else you want to do today?  We could go see a movie?  Or…we could get JARVIS to order some things for a tea party?”

Steve’s smile was too bright to be contained.  He shook his head firmly.  “No.  I wanna go to the park!  He didn’t quite understand the looks on the others’ faces.  “We can go on the swings,” he offered, “and we can play catch!”

Tony cringed.  “Buddy…”

“Sounds like fun,” said another voice.

“Uncle Phil!”

Steve bounced up and ran over to crash into the man.  “You’re home!  Where did you go?  Were you with Uncle Clint?  Did you get all the bad guys?”

Coulson wrapped Steve in his arms and gave him a kiss on the forehead.  “Yeah, I was with Uncle Clint.”  He looked up and winked at Barton.  “And _of course_ we got all the bad guys.” 

Steve giggled.  “What kind of bad guys?  What did they do?  Where were you?”

Phil tousled his hair.  “Don’t worry about it, buddy.  You wanted to go to the park, right?”

Steve nodded excitedly.  “Yeah!”

Phil looked him over.  “…In your jammies?”

Steve spun around.  “Momma?  You gotta help me put my clothes on so we can go! C’mon!  We gotta hurry!”  He pulled Natasha out of her seat and toward the elevator.  

Phil took a seat at the table once they’d left.  

“Coulson,” Tony started, “you can’t just put ideas in his little head like that.  A park is going to have people, and people have cameras, and cameras mean some kind of media firestorm—”

Phil held his hand up.  “Relax, Stark.  I’ve got a security detail lined up.”

Clint laughed into a cup of coffee, looking at his lover with a little sparkle in his eyes.  “Aren’t _we_ the security detail?”

Phil rolled his eyes, but smiled.  “C’mon, hop to it, everyone. You’re not going in your jammies, either.”

+

It turns out the park was a hit.  Clint and Bruce made and packed a bunch of PBJ sandwiches and juiceboxes and one of those checkered blankets to sprawl out on.  With a few agents around the perimeter and one in the sky, they hadn’t a thing to worry about.  It was a warm, spring-nearly-summer day, and there was no happier little boy in the whole world than Steve, even as Bruce was trying to keep him still enough to lather him up in sunscreen.

He sat on his knees in the grass, wearing khaki shorts and a t-shirt, squirming all over the place as Bruce squeezed lotion all over his arms.  “We gotta play catch, Baba,” he said, bouncing up and down.  “But I wanna go on the swings first! Can you push me on the swings?”

Bruce chuckled.  “You’re a little big for me to push, but I bet if you said, ‘please,’ and, ‘thank you,’ Papa would give you a push on the swings.”

With one arm protected from the sun and the other without lotion, Steve hopped up and ran over to where Thor seemed to be taking a nap in the sun.  “Papa?” He asked.

Thor lifted his sunglasses.  “Yes, little one?”

“Can you please, pretty please push me on the swings?”

Thor smiled and sat up.  “I don’t suppose why not.”

And Bruce hadn’t really thought it through, because—well, you know how, when you were little, you always wanted to see if you could get the swings to launch all the way around the top bar?  Steve was pretty close, still shouting at Thor, “Higher!  Higher, Papa!  Higher!”

From a distance, Tony just shook his head and laughed.  “He’s gonna send that kid into orbit.”

Natasha shrugged at that.  “At least he’s having fun.”

And that was true, Tony supposed.  There was only so much for Steve to do inside, especially on sunny days like these.  He just wanted to have the space to run himself in circles for hours and scream until his lungs hurt.  See, the Tower had nearly everything you could ever need, but it didn’t have grass.

Steve’s attention span was rather short, so after a few minutes of swinging, he ran over and asked Tony to play catch with him.

“Remember how to play?” Tony asked as they spread out from each other a bit.

“Yeah…” Steve turned the ball over and over in his non-gloved hand.  “But, um.  Can you show me how to throw it just one more time?”

The day as a whole was like nothing else.  Yeah, finally getting some fresh air was good for Steve, but it was also good for the rest of them.  Natasha taught Thor how to enjoy a good old earth swing.  Tony finally put his StarkPad down and went tech free for an afternoon.  And the only green Bruce was was covered in grass stains from the little game of tag he was playing with Steve.  Clint and Coulson had, of course, found a rather large tree to make out behind.  There was a certain freedom in just getting to run around and accomplish absolutely nothing.  They were starting to see why Steve liked being little so much.

All that fresh air seemed to have tired Steve out. The sun had just begun to retire as his eyelids drooped and he curled up in Natasha’s lap on the picnic blanket.  Thor carried him to the car while the others packed up the stuff.

On the way home, Tony shot Coulson a look of thanks from the driver seat.

Thor carried his boy up to bed once they got back to the tower.  He started to stir once they got back to his room.

“But Papa,” he yawned, “we didn’t have dinner yet.”

“We’ll have dinner when you wake.  Have a short nap, little one.  You are very tired.”

“That was the best day of my whole life, I think,” Steve mumbled as his eyes closed again, his voice all filled with sleep, but he was still smiling.  

Always smiling.


	4. A Little Bit of Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sort-of character study; details how Steve interacts with all of his caretakers.

Steve woke pressed against Natasha’s chest, breathing in the soft scent of her skin, her arms wrapped around him.  “Momma?” He mumbled into the soft fabric of her pajama top.  She shushed him, traced little shapes into the small of his back with the tip of her finger.  His eyes fluttered closed for a few moments as she hummed a gentle lullaby under her breath.  

Natasha loved that look on his face—the softness of his chiseled features, the peace, his smooth skin.  He really looked like a boy again.  There’s something about sleep which does that to anyone.

“Momma?” He asked again after a little while, eyes closed now, a yawn in his voice.

“Yeah, little one?”

“Do we have to get up? Or can we stay here for a little bit?”  He nestled closer to her.  “I’m comfy.”  His thumb found its way into his mouth and he sucked on it absentmindedly.

Natasha smiled and carded her fingers through his sleep-messy blond hair.  “Me too.”  She held him closer, rubbing his shoulders a bit.  “How did you sleep?”

“Good.” He let out a little sigh.  “It’s easier to go to sleep when I’m not all by myself.”

She kissed his forehead.  “Maybe you should sleep with one of us more often.”  She heard him start to whine in protest and cut him off, “Big boys shouldn’t have to sleep alone just because they’re big.”

Steve pondered that a while, watching the sun rise through the slats of the blinds that covered the windows, painting shades of orange and pink.  He yawned once or twice.  “Maybe,” he said, softly.  “Maybe just one more time.”

She rubbed her nose against his.  “I’ll take what I can get.”

They stayed like that for a little while longer, just pressed against each other, sharing warmth.  Steve was so glad to just be warm.  “Momma?”

“Yes, baby?”

Steve blushed a little at being called that.  “Um.  Did you sleep good, too?”

Natasha smiled.  “Are you kidding?  I always get the best night’s sleep when I’m sleeping with you.”

Steve giggled, his laugh angelic, pure, perfect.

+

“Ouchie,” Steve said, sniffling.  He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and Bruce handed him a tissue.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” he said, reaching for the first aid kid.  Steve was sitting on the edge of the bathtub with his foot propped up on the closed lid of the toilet.  A little toenail injury, nothing serious.  The cause?  “It’s my fault.  I shouldn’t have been chasing you through the hallway.”

Steve shrugged, watching as Bruce took a wet washcloth and wiped away the small amount of blood.  He had been wearing socks when Bruce was chasing him down the hall playfully, pretending to be a cop chasing a robber.  Steve had misjudged a corner and slid directly into it, doing a bit of damage to one of his big toes.  “Am I gonna have to go to the doctor?” He asked, a little scared.  “Because…I don’t like the…”

“No, I don’t think so.  You should be able to keep your toe this time.” he said, winking.

Steve giggled at that, watching closely as Bruce wrapped two bandaids around his toe.  He wiggled it a little bit, wincing.  “How long is it gonna be ouchie?” 

“It should heal pretty fast as long as you don’t mess with it and you keep off of it.  You’ll just have to get someone to carry you around for a few days.”  

Steve smiled.  “Thanks for fixing my toe, Baba.”

“My pleasure,” Bruce said, closing up his kit.  “Does it need a kiss to make sure it gets better _really_ fast?” 

Steve nodded, and Bruce bent over and kissed his toe, never mind the remnants of blood and where all it had been that day.

Bruce took Steve’s hands to help him up, but paused for a moment.  “Buddy?  Can Baba talk to you for just a second?”

“Uh huh.”

“You know I would never hurt you on purpose, right?” Steve nodded.  “I would never hit you, or hurt you, or anything like that.  And spankings are—”

“—for when I know I did something bad.”

Bruce smiled a little, squeezing Steve’s hands in his own.  “That’s right.  You’re such a smart boy.”  He helped Steve to his feet.

“I gotta go show everyone my toe!”

+

There was a rather large presence at the side of the bed just as Steve bolted upright.

“Relax, little one.  It’s alright.  It’s Papa.  JARVIS told me you were thrashing about in your sleep like you were experiencing a—”

“Bad dream,” Steve choked, utter terror in his voice.  “I had a really bad dream.”

Thor climbed up next to him in his bed, pulling Steve up onto his lap and wrapping his arms around him.  “A nightmare?  Oh, no.  I’m here now.”

Steve hiccuped.  Tears dripped down his face.  “Papa, I was so scared,” he said, eyes still wide.  “There were all these bad guys, and they tried to take me away, and no one…”  His chest heaved with sobs.  “No one…no one…”

Thor wrapped his arms a little tighter around Steve.  “As long as I hold you tight, nothing can come between us.  I will always be right here, my little one.  No need for worries.”

Steve tried to relax into Thor’s touch, but the details of bad dream kept playing themselves over and over in his mind: He was all alone, wandering in some familiarly unfamiliar place.  It was cold and dark, and these men in jumpsuits grabbed him and took him away.  He cried out for anyone—Momma, Daddy, Papa, Baba, Uncle Phil, Uncle Clint—but no one had come to rescue him.  And the thing was, it felt more like a memory than a dream.

“You know,” Thor started, voice low, “bad dreams are simply a reminder that you survived something.”  He turned Steve around in his lap so that they were facing each other. He gave him a little kiss on the cheek.  “You’re a brave little boy.”

“Big boy,” Steve squeaked out.

Thor chuckled.  “Of course.  A brave big boy.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Thor and buried his face in the man’s large chest.

“Though, if I’m not mistaken, you’ve had fewer nightmares since we’ve started this.”

Steve nodded and raised his head slowly.  “Yeah, I guess so.”  He sighed.  “But when are they gonna go away forever?”

“They may not.  I know that I have nightmares sometimes—visions.  Your Uncle Clint has many nightmares, and so does Momma.  Perhaps the only thing that changes is that you get stronger.”

Steve nodded, resting his head against Thor’s chest once more.  “Can you stay with me, Papa?  I don’t wanna be all alone anymore.”

They lie down in bed, get all under the covers, and Thor whispers, “You’re never alone, my little one.  I’ll always protect you.”

+

“Daddy!”

Tony sat upright with a start.  “What?  What is it?  Are you okay?”

Steve giggled.  “Yeah, I’m okay.  You said to come get you when my watch said, ‘three-zero-zero.’”

Tony got up from his workstation and looked around him for a moment.  He must’ve fallen asleep in the middle of a project.  “That’s right,” he said, still a little confused.  “We’re gonna play video games, right?”

Steve nodded, eyes all big and a smile to match.  “Were you taking a nap?” He asked.

Tony peeled a sticky note with an important code from his forearm.  “I guess so,” he laughed.  They walked out of the lab together.  Tony paused.  “Steve.  What have Baba and I said about shoes in the lab?”

Steve twisted up his lips in guilt and shrank back.  “…That I gotta wear them so I don’t get hurt.”

“There’s tons of broken stuff all over the place, stuff you could slip in, cut up your toes on,” Tony said, motioning widely with his hands.  “You need to wear shoes in here.  If I catch you again, there’re going to be consequences.  Is that clear?”

“Yeah, Daddy.  I’m really sorry…I just forgot.”

Tony softened.  He wrapped and arm around Steve.  “I know you are, Little Captain.  Now, what video game are we going to play?”

“Mario Kart!”

Two laps into the final race— Moo Moo Meadows (Steve’s favorite)— and Tony was pulling first with Steve inches behind him.

“I’m catching up, Daddy!  See me?  I’m right behind you!”

“I see that.  I better get my tail in gear, huh?”

Steve giggled as his Luigi hit a question mark block.  A red shell.  

Now, Steve didn’t ordinarily understand the strategy involved in a game of Mario Kart, especially when it came to power-ups.  He typically just used them as soon as he got them, but with this one, he waited for a little bit, until the third lap, just a few meters from the finish line.  He threw the shell, it his Tony’s Bowser, and knocked him off course.  Steve surged ahead and made it to the finish line in first place.

He jumped up and pointed at the screen.  “Daddy!  Daddy!  I won!  Look!”

Tony, still in a little bit of shock, stood up as well.  “I didn’t even see that coming, buddy.  You’re getting pretty good at this game!”  He walked over and gave Steve a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

Steve beamed.  Victory was sweet.

+

Thursday afternoon was quiet around the Tower.  The uncles had volunteered to take an afternoon shift so everyone else could rest.  Clint and Coulson were more than fine with that; Steve’s afternoon nap gave them enough time for a heavy petting session or two.

Around three o’clock or so, Steve’s little head peeked around the corner and into the living room.  “Looks like our favorite Little Captain is awake,” Phil said, a smile in his voice.

Steve walked out slowly, dragging his feet a little bit.  He wrung his hands in front of him.  “Something wrong?” Clint asked.

Steve shook his head, but didn’t move.  He stood in front of them awkwardly, not making eye contact.  Finally he spoke up.  “I need help with something.”  His uncles nodded, urging him to explain.  Steve looked down.  “It’s, um.  It’s…”

“Do you need a change?” Phil asked, and Steve just nodded.  Phil held out his hand and led Steve to the elevator and back upstairs to his room.  “Now, I’m not too great at this, so you’re going to need to help me out, okay?  We’ll help each other.”

Steve tucked his hands innocently at his chest and nodded.  Phil unzipped his pants and Steve stepped out of them.  Phil tore the side of his pull-up away and tossed it in the trash.  Steve covered himself with his hands and his cheeks reddened. 

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” Phil said, rifling through drawers to find a pack of baby wipes.  “It’s not like I haven’t seen one before.”  Steve nodded, slowly, but kept his hands in front of him.  Phil handed Steve a wet wipe once he’d found them.  “Can you clean yourself, or do you need me to help?”

A rather uncertain, “I can.”

“I won’t look,” Phil said, turning around to let Steve clean his business.

When it was all said and done, after Steve got all his bottoms back in order and they returned to the living room, Steve was still acting a little shy about what had happened.

“What movie do you want to watch?” Clint asked him, opening up his arms for a proper cuddle.  Steve just shrugged his shoulders.  “No. C’mon.  Pick a movie.”  

“I don’t care,” Steve said really soft.

“Alright, that’s it.”  Clint sat up and switched off the TV completely.  “This simply won’t do.”

Steve looked down at his lap.

Clint lunged forward, and with the help of Phil on the other side of him, successfully executed a surprise tickle attack, coming at him with four different tickling hands from all angles.  Steve immediately erupted into an explosion of giggles and pleas to stop.

“Uncle Clint!” He shouted as Barton took off his sock and started going after his feet.  “I’m so—!  I’m so tickley right there!”

Phil took the armpits and under the chin, while Clint mostly focused on the backs of his knees and his toes.  When they thought he was finally about to burst (or stop breathing), they let him escape for their clutches, breathing hard as ever.

“That wasn’t fair!  You s-surprised me!”  He was still laughing, still guarding all the vulnerable areas of his body.

“But you’re smiling,” Phil pointed out.

Clint kissed Steve’s forehead, then Phil’s lips.  “That’s all we wanted.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! How would you all feel about another age play fic in this verse (maybe not little!Steve, but we'll see) that's chaptered, as opposed to this, which is lots of little stories in one place?? Drop me a line if that's something you'd like to see!
> 
> More exciting things to come in the near future! Keep your eyes peeled on my profile for some new stuff going up. :)
> 
> Also: Next chapter will probably be out Saturday or later, but I'll make it work the wait, I promise. 
> 
> Much love!!


	5. Little Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The instances which led up to what the family has become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is a little later than I anticipated. I wrote and rewrote and rewrote, because I wanted to make sure it was just right. I also just graduated on Thursday, and you know, that's exciting. Enjoy!

****

Nights were dark in the Tower, once, before nightlights littered the hallways, before Tony left the light on in the kitchen for late night glasses of water.  They each had their own rooms on their own floors, and there was no need to see each other after 8pm. Steve’s bedroom was like a black hole.  Any light that went into it never came back out, and most days, if he didn’t have to, Steve didn’t either.

His memories were a deep, nagging, whispering complex, one that kept him awake most nights.  And when his body had given up on itself and turned to sleep as a last resort, he woke screaming nearly every hour on the hour from the same damn nightmare like a record caught on the needle.  His body shook like an earthquake, and the rush of tears to his eyes were the subsequent tsunami.  And perhaps the worst part of it was that he thought he was all alone.

He didn’t even hear Tony open the door.

“What’s in there?” Came Tony’s voice, softer than usual, and then something heavy sat on the bed next to him.  “Cap?”

Steve kept his eyes closed.  He was sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees and his face in his palms.  He didn’t move when Tony sat, only flinched when the man rubbed a hand over his quivering back.

“Cap?”

“I want to go home,” he said, finally, words spinning out of him, voice breaking—he sounded like a kid again.  He couldn’t open his eyes.  He forced air in and out of his lungs.  

Tony could do most anything—buy anything that money could buy, kill entire armies, create artificial intelligence for God’s sake—but he couldn’t build a time machine.

He set it in Steve’s lap.

Steve felt it, pawed around for it, then grabbed onto it.  He opened his eyes.  “What…”

A teddy bear.

Steve held it up by one of its arms.  “I haven’t had one of these since—”

“The twenties,” Stark laughed.  He nodded at it.  “I got it because I thought—”

“It’s a nice gift, Tony.  Thank you,” Steve cut him off, his sense returning to him.  He straightened his shoulders.  “But, you know.  I’m not eight years old.”

Tony stood.  “You looked like it just then,” he said, not a hint of snark to it.  He rubbed his hands together, waited for Steve to say something more, and when he didn’t, walked toward the door.  He looked back as he turned the knob.  “You know, the rest of us aren’t getting any sleep around her, either.”  He saw Steve shift in the dark.  “The elevator works at night, too.”

+

It was late, beyond late, and he found himself in the elevator, the blue light like a halo around him, trying to decide which floor he needed to be on.

Not Tony’s floor.  Tony was all talk, all the time.  He’d try to say something, and no matter what it was, Steve wasn’t in the mood to hear it.

He was afraid Natasha would kill him if he showed up on her floor.  She had an assassin’s reflexes.  This ruled out Clint as well.

Thor wasn’t in, last he’d checked—he’d mumbled something about Asgard, blasted off attached to his hammer, and left his brand on a Manhattan sidewalk.

Which left Banner.  Which left Steve to press the button to go up just one floor and bump around the hallway in the dark until he found Bruce’s bedroom door.  He knocked slowly, hand shaking.

Bruce threw the door open a moment later.

Steve jumped.  “You’re awake?”

“Your ceiling isn’t soundproof.”

Steve bit his lip.

Bruce adjusted his glasses and let the man into his room.  “Can’t sleep?”  Steve took that as an invitation to sit down and curl up his legs on Bruce’s bed.  Bruce smiled tiredly, sitting down next to him.  “Tony finally visited, then?”

Steve nodded slowly, hiding the teddy bear in his lap with his arms out of instinct.

“Did you name him?” Bruce asked, not even looking at him, grabbing the remote and flipping through the movie library on the TV.

“Bucky,” Steve whispered.

“Have you ever seen _The Lion King_?”  Steve gave him a blank look.  “Right.” 

The theme music started and Steve climbed under the covers and sat next to Bruce.  By the stampede, he was nearly on Bruce’s lap, his head on the man’s shoulder, with Bruce’s arms wrapped around him, and by the end, sleep had taken him hostage.  He snored against Bruce’s shoulder, a string of drool dripping from his parted lips.

Bruce pet his hair gently, so as not to wake him, and hummed the tune of _Hakuna Matata_ gently into his ear.

In the morning, Steve woke up in Bruce’s bed, alone, a different sort of sun shining through the window.  Steve sat up slowly, the teddy bear—Bucky—falling from his arms.  Bruce was nowhere to be found.  At least he had given Steve that piece of his dignity.

+

He had been sleeping more.  The bags under his eyes were slowly disintegrating, and the others were taking notice.  It was something about that bear—which the others had only seen glimpses of through Steve’s bedroom door—and his late night trips to Bruce’s room to build his Disney repertoire that were making him better.  Slowly.  Surely.

Clint had started cooking breakfasts some mornings.  The others didn’t complain about the eggs and toast, and he actually quite enjoyed cooking.

One morning Steve came down in the elevator and walked through the kitchen to where the others were sipping coffee in the dining area. Each set of eyes followed carefully, not Steve, but the teddy bear tucked in the crook of his arm.  They over-smiled to compensate and tried not to draw any attention to it.

Clint came out of the kitchen, wearing an apron.  “How many eggs am I making?”

Steve flashed eyes seemingly bluer than they were before.  “Do you know how to make pancakes?” He asked simply.

Clint smiled, a little surprised.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I can do that,” he said before heading back into the kitchen.  “Haven’t had pancakes in years,” he said to himself, then asked JARVIS to find him a recipe.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” Natasha asked finally, after ten minutes of trying to avoid staring.  She stood up, fully expecting Gentleman Steve Rogers to stop her and get his own cup of coffee like every other morning.

“Can I actually have a glass of milk?”  He asked, adding, “Please?” like he’d almost forgotten.

Natasha nodded, her smile faltering for just a moment.  She hoped he hadn’t noticed.  She got up, went to the kitchen, and got him his glass of milk.

“Thanks,” he said, picking up the glass with both hands and drinking until he got a mustache of it above his upper lip.  He wiped it against the sleeve of his shirt.

The others didn’t bother trying to hide the looks they were giving each other; Steve was preoccupied with his glass of milk.  It was starting to become very clear, very quickly that this was not Steve—well…at least, it wasn’t Captain America.  The jury was still out on exactly who was sitting in front of them.

“Bruce and I watched _Cinderella_ last night,” Steve offered, trying to fill the silence.

Bruce?  Not “Doctor Banner”? Tony shook the question from his head.  “That’s one of my favorites,” he said, smiling.

“We were gonna watch another one that he said I would really like, but I fell asleep.”  Then Steve laughed, but it wasn’t quite his normal laugh.  It was lighter, softer, more like a giggle.

“I’m glad you’re getting some sleep,” Natasha said.

The moment was interrupted by a steaming plate of pancakes.  Steve took three or four for himself, drenched them in syrup, and didn’t speak another word until he’d vacuumed them up.  The others watched him curiously.

“We have that video conference with Homeland Security at ten,” Tony said, hating to burst the bubble.  

Steve wiped his face on his sleeve and slid his chair back.  “I’ll go get dressed,” he said, waving to all of them and heading for the elevator, carrying his teddy by one arm as he walked away.

They waited for him to disappear before they said anything, though no one quite knew what to say.

“Pancakes,” Clint said, eyebrows raised.

“He was testing us, I think,” Tony said, softly.

Natasha nodded along.  “Did we pass?”

+

Natasha wasn’t expecting a knock on her bedroom door so late, to be quite honest.  Bruce had become Steve’s harbor on nights when he drifted from bed.  Even so, she threw on a bathrobe, wiped the sleep from her eyes, and answered the door.

“Do you know how to use the laundry machine?” Said the scared voice in the dark.

Natasha couldn’t help but crack a smile as she flipped on the light.  “You know JARVIS knows how to do everything.”

“It might…it might wake up Tony and I don’t want him to know.”

She pulled Steve into her room and closed the door behind him.  “Don’t want Tony to know what?” She asked, a little more accusatory.

“I spilled something on my bed,” he rushed, sounding a little rehearsed.  “Can you just show me how to use the laundry machine?  And _please_ don’t tell Tony.”

So she followed him to the laundry room where a pile of linens were sitting on the floor. “That one first,” she said, pointing to the washer.  Steve stuffed his bedsheets in the drum.  “Then soap…then you just twist the knob…”

“Thanks,” Steve breathed.  “You can go back to bed, now.”

“You’ll have to put it in the dryer, too.  I’ll just wait up with you.”

Steve shook his head.  “No, you should go back to bed.”

“ _You_ should go back to bed.”  Steve looked away from her.  “What’d you spill?”

Deer-in-the-headlight eyes.  “Beer.”

Natasha gave him a knowing look.  Steve turned away and she heard him sniffle.  “Steve?”  No response.  “Did you wet the—”

“Please don’t tell Tony.”

Natasha raised her open hands in defense.  “I won’t.”

Steve put his face in his hands and slid down the wall.  Nat sat next to him and placed a warm hand on his back.  

“What would your mother do when you used to…”

“Warm milk,” he said softly.

So Natasha got up and made him a mug of warm milk.  He followed her to the kitchen like a lost puppy.  He sat at the table and took a few sips.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” he said blankly.

“Do what?”

He just shrugged. 

Natasha nodded slow with understanding.

+

Tony called a private meeting in the early morning while Steve was still asleep (thank God).  They sat on separate sofas on the common floor, looking at each other over the rims of their coffee mugs.

“JARVIS ran some research,” Tony started.  “Steve—we all know he doesn’t sleep, he hardly eats, he’s a pain in the ass all the time… he’s got some kind of post-traumatic stress thing going on.”

“He needs help,” Natasha sussed out.  “ _Our_ help.”

Tony nodded.  “J, show them what we found.”

JARVIS displayed a webpage showing a fully grown man sitting on his knees on the floor, Legos scattered all around him, and the smile on his face rather innocent.  “It’s called ageplay,” JARVIS explained.  “It’s a form of role-play in which one participant takes on the role of a small child, while the other participant or participants take on the role of a caretaker.  The effects in cases like Mr. Rogers’ are astoundingly positive; the reliance on a caretaker as well as the regression back to a simpler time improves mood and general quality of life.”

JARVIS flipped through several more pictures—the same man as before drinking out of a sippy cup, then cuddling with a caretaker on the sofa, then sitting in bed with several stuffed toys while another caretaker read him a story.  Everyone was quiet for a minute or two.

Bruce cleared his throat.  “I wouldn’t want him to call me ‘Dad.’”

“He wouldn’t have to,” Tony said.  “It would be whatever he wanted.”

 “What would you recommend, JARVIS?” Thor asked, directing his question at the ceiling.

“In this case, I would recommend it as an option.”

Tony looked around.  “Some of us had parents—good, bad, otherwise—and some of us had institutions.  You know, it’s not just Steve.  Honestly, we all could use this as a chance to be the parents we never had.”

A wild Steve appeared.  He stood at the head of the room with his hands behind his back, eyes going between his team members and what JARVIS had displayed.  He had about seventeen different questions coursing through his head in that instant, but the one that came out of his mouth was, “Can we have pancakes for breakfast?”

The others turned around to look at him.  Tony was the one to ask the hanging question. 

“Steve?  This—this is…something we can talk about.  Why don’t you sit down?”

Steve shook his head.  “Can we _please_ have pancakes for breakfast?”

“I’ll make pancakes, buddy,” Clint said, laughing.  “Just sit down so we can talk about this.”

Steve sat down close to Thor.  He looked up at the screen.  

“Does that look like…” Bruce chose his words carefully, “like something you’d want?”

Steve studied the pictures.  “You want to take care of me?” He asked, voice small.  He didn’t dare look up at any of them.  

Thor rubbed his rather large hand on Steve’s shoulder.  “The question is: would you like us to take care of you?”

And there were finer points which they needed to work out.  What to call whom.  When were the appropriate times for this, and when should they try to keep business as usual.  Punishments? Rewards?

Steve knew all of this of course, but a smile like nothing else graced his face, looking like the sunrise had come over it.  He pulled his hands forward and produced his teddy bear.  Thor touched its face and then Steve’s, caressing it lightly.  “What say you, Captain?”

Steve, eyes unendingly bright, simply nodded.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one shot tomorrow, and then another on Tuesday to compensate for the fact that I won't be around the rest of the week. Thank you so much for the comments, lovelies! You all are just so wonderful. <3
> 
> UPDATE: I LEFT FOR VACATION A LITTLE EARLIER THAN EXPECTED, SO NO UPDATE TONIGHT OR TOMORROW, BUT MAYBE SOMETIME THIS WEEK. KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED!


	6. Little Babysitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When all the others have plans for the weekend and there's no one left to watch Steve, an old friend steps in to help, despite his reservations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not updating for about a month, but I have been on the cross-country road trip of a lifetime, so I feel like that's a good excuse. Anyways, enjoy!

It’s not typical that all of them would need to be gone at the same time.  Sure, Clint and Coulson liked to get away every now and then to probably have the kinkiest sex you could possibly imagine, and Thor had ties to Asgard and all, but the others were pretty much based at the Tower.  This weekend was different.  MIT had asked Tony to give the commencement speech, and he’d accepted of course.  Bruce was a keynote speaker at some low-key biomechanics conference, and he’d been far too excited about it.  And Natasha—well she hadn’t said where exactly he would be going, but she wasn’t going to be around.

That’s pretty much how Sam Wilson ended up at the Tower early Saturday morning— not because he wanted to, per say, and not because he really knew anything about taking care of Steve, but because he was a last resort.

He walked in and set his duffle near where he had kicked off his shoes.  He came through the doorway into the kitchen, where Steve was sitting, nervously eating his pancakes.  They just looked at each other for a few minutes.

“It’s funny,” Bruce said, picking up his briefcase and trying to tear through the tension in the room.  “Captain America and Uncle Sam.”

Sam laughed awkwardly.  He shrugged off his coat and hung it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.  “So…where are—”

“They already took off.  Thor's been gone for about a week now, Nat left Thursday, Clint and Coulson last night, and you just missed Tony.”

Sam nodded.  “So.  Are there things I’ll need to know, or?”

“Yeah, of course.”  Bruce motioned around the kitchen at the cupboards.  “Ask JARVIS if you can’t find something, but Steve pretty much knows where everything is.  Don’t bother with dishes or anything—honestly, you’re doing us a favor. You can have anything in the fridge.  Don’t give Steve too much sugar if you want to make this easy on yourself.” Bruce chuckled to himself.  “No soda, no alcohol.”

Sam hummed.  Steve pouted in the background.

Bruce took Sam up to Steve’s room.  “He needs a nap sometime in early afternoon, just for an hour or so.  And put him down for bed about nine, nine-thirty.  He might want to watch a movie first, so just tell JARVIS to start whatever movie he wants around eight.” Bruce turned around and gave him a  serious look.  “Keep it PG.”

Bruce went through all the drawers in Steve’s bedroom and bathroom, showing him the pajamas and the t-shirts and the socks and the toothpaste and anything else he might need.

“And in the bottom one, right here, pull-ups.”

Sam’s eyes widened a little.  “He has…?”

“No.  Just at night.  Make sure he gets one on before bed, and takes it off in the morning.  He might need a little help wiping up, but that’s all.”

Sam nodded slowly, looking around Steve’s room.  Blankets covered in Disney characters.  Stuffed animals of all kinds.  Kids’ books on the shelf beside boxes full of toys and games. In the corner, there was a half put-together puzzle of a tiger, next to the biggest bucket of Legos he’d ever seen.

Bruce watched his eyes.  He sighed.  “Is it too much?”

“Cap’s my friend.  I…It’s a lot to take in.”  Sam looked down.   

Bruce tried to smile.  “He’ll grow on you, I promise.”

Sam hoped so.

Back down in the kitchen, Steve was having a hard time saying goodbye.

“Baba, are you coming back for supper time?”

“No, little one.  I’ll be back tomorrow night just in time to tuck you into bed.  But Daddy should be back tomorrow after you nap.”  Bruce kissed his boy on the forehead and pulled him into a hug.  “Now you wipe the sticky syrup off your face and be a good boy for Uncle Sam, okay?”

Steve hugged his Baba back even tighter.

+

They had successfully avoided each other for over an hour.  

Steve secluded himself in the corner of the living room, facing the wall, pressing together multicolored Lego blocks into a tower.  Every once in a while he would whisper something into his teddy bear’s ear, then hold its mouth up to his ear to listen for the response.

Sam sat back and watched from a distance, trying mostly to just understand. 

He hadn’t seen Steve in months—not since this all started.  It’s not like he _meant_ to stay away, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to interact with one of his best friends when they were… Sam looked up.  Steve was leaning against the side of the sofa with his thumb in his mouth.  It was almost endearing, but Sam couldn’t shake that image of Captain America from his head.  Running around, smashing skulls, saving the world, to…blocks, bears, and thumb-sucking?

He wondered if it was wrong to feel uncomfortable. 

Steve stood up and walked over to the sofa where Sam was sitting.  “Can…Can I watch TV?” He asked quietly, almost as if he was scared to.

Sam slid over to make room for him.  “Are-are you allowed to do that?”

Steve nodded.  “JARVIS, can you put _Dora_ on the TV, please?”

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

So Steve climbed up onto the sofa and tucked his legs up and crossed them.  He set his teddy bear in his lap and made himself comfortable.

Meanwhile, Sam tried his best to keep his distance.  He didn’t know if Steve liked to be touched when he was…this way.  And especially by him.  He tried to focus on the television.  He hadn’t watched cartoons in probably ten years.

“So. Um. Do you want to do something?  Play something?” Sam offered after about thirteen minutes of sitting next to each other on the sofa in silence.

Steve shook his head.  He played with his bear’s soft fur between his fingers.

Sam sighed.  “So, what’s his name?” He asked, hopefully.  He reached out to touch the bear but Steve yanked him away. 

Steve shrank back.  “He… he doesn’t like to be touched,” Steve rushed, heart pounding.

Even little Steve could sense that Sam wasn’t comfortable.  The long stares, the awkward questions.  And Steve didn’t want someone like that touching his bear.

“I’m sorry.”  Sam directed his gaze at the bear.  “I’m sorry, little guy,” he said, a little sweeter.

Steve blinked.  “Um.  His name is Bucky.”

Sam gave him a soft, knowing look.  “Well, I’m sorry, Bucky.  I didn’t know.”

Steve smiled a little bit and slowly offered Bucky’s paw over for Sam to shake.  “He forgives you.  Daddy said forgiving makes it all better.”

Sam looked at Steve, really looked at him.  Big, round, blue eyes enough to get lost in.  A sweet, calm expression on his face.  Dinosaur pajamas.  Teddy bear cradled carefully in his arms.  This wasn’t Captain America at all.  Sam realized that that was his problem with it all.  This wasn’t Captain America.  This was Steve.  His friend, Steve.

Sam pursed his lips.  “Steve…can I ask you to forgive me for something?”

Steve cocked his head to the side a little.  “What’s that?”

Sam put his hand on Steve’s shoulder softly.  “Steve, I haven’t been around.  And I’m sorry about that. We’re supposed to be friends, and I haven’t been here for you.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”  Sam shook his head.  “Just because I didn’t understand something, it doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t have tried to.  I’m sorry.”

Steve unexpectedly jumped up and wrapped his arms around Sam.  “I forgive you,” he said, leaving a too-wet kiss against Sam’s cheek.

Sam, surprising himself a little, kissed Steve back.  “Your Daddy is right,” he said.  “Forgiving does make everything better.”

“Um, Uncle Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Bucky also said he wants ice cream.”

Sam laughed a little too hard at that.  “Absolutely.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update tomorrow!


	7. A Little Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a mission, Steve hides his injury from the others.

On the battlefield, there was Captain America. Super soldier, strong, fearless, all of that.  And in the Tower, there was little Steve.  Cuddles, wide eyes, giggles.  There were pretty clear boundaries about that and Steve did his best at switching headspaces so quickly.  This made the quinjet kind of the in-between space.  A place for Steve to age up or down.  Tony had made a little space in the back for him, where he kept his teddy bear and blankie and a few other things.

The flight home from a mission was always the same.

Steve had immediately disappeared into his space in the back and left the others up front to sort themselves out.  Tony sat in the captain’s chair despite the fact that he’d put JARVIS on autopilot an hour ago.  Thor polished his hammer.  Bruce was listening to an opera on his headphones.  Nat and Clint were sitting together and talking.

Steve was sitting on the floor with his knees up.  He pressed his teddy to his chest like a vice. 

Little Steve had come to him very quickly.  He was practically in his little headspace before they’d lifted off.  The others always knew he could be cranky as he aged down, but this time it had been like a landslide.  As soon as they’d boarded, he’d pushed them all out of the way to get to his space in the back.

“Bucky?” He whispered to his bear, hoping the others wouldn’t hear.  His throat hurt with the lump of tears rising in it.  “I broke a rule,” he sniffled. “But you can’t tell Baba or Daddy or no one.”

Bucky looked on with kind, round, plastic eyes, seemingly asking, “What rule?”

“I got a bad ouchie.”  He pushed up the sleeve of his suit to show his teddy bear the damage—a heavily bleeding bullet hole in his forearm.  His suit had held in most of the blood until now, and the sight of it made Steve feel a little queazy. Steve didn’t hardly remember at what point in the battle that it had happened.  He wasn’t really so sensitive to pain when he was in the middle of it all.  But now that the adrenaline had left him, it felt like someone had burned a hole through his arm.  

“I’m s’posed to tell Baba when I get an ouchie, but…” Steve swallowed hard and pushed his sleeve back down.  “It doesn’t hurt very bad.  I just need a bandaid.”

Bucky the bear seemed to be a little skeptical of that.

Steve shook his head.  “If they know I got an ouchie, then I won’t be allowed to go on missions anymore.  So that’s why you can’t tell them, okay?  When we get back home, I know where Baba keeps the bandaids, and I’ll just put one on…” Steve looked at his sleeve, which was starting to turn red. “Maybe two.” 

He bit his lip.

He heard footsteps, then someone pulled back the curtain.

“Uncle Clint?”

Barton smiled a little, hopefully.  “Stevie?”  Steve nodded.  “How’s my little man?”

“Good,” Steve said, trying not to appear like he’d been shot in the arm. His quickly wiped the tears from his cheeks.

“That’s good.”  Clint stepped in and sat down next to him.  Steve hid his injured arm down by the floor. “I told your Daddy that we’re going to have a movie night when we get back.  How does that sound?  We’ll make popcorn, and we’ll have candy and maybe even some soda.  You can pick the movies.  And we can all cuddle on the couch.  I’ll even get Uncle Phil to come.  What do you think?”

Steve nodded again.  “That sounds good,” he said in a rush.

Clint’s eyebrows drew together.  “Are you okay, buddy?”  He searched Steve’s face for something, then lowered his voice.  “Did you see something out there?”

Steve shook his head.  “I…I just kinda want to be all by myself right now.”

“Are you sure?”  Clint put a hand on Steve’s back. Steve leaned forward away from his touch.  “We can talk about it, if you want?”

“No, that’s okay.”

Clint stood up slowly and gave Steve a kiss on the forehead.   “Come out whenever you’re ready, okay?  But maybe you should take a nap.”

+

Steve didn’t know that he had fallen asleep until he woke up.  His face was pressed against the cool metal of the floor, and his teddy was still tucked in his uninjured arm.  He tried to sit up, but was almost as if he couldn’t move, like the air had turned heavy.  He looked around him; his arm was dripping now, and a small pool of blood had collected under him.  His lip wobbled, and he didn’t even try to hold back his tears.

“Steve?” Tony called.  “Steve, come out, little one.  We’re home!”  Tony chuckled as he pulled back the curtain to find Steve’s still body on the floor, curled up in the fetal position. “Are you asleep?” He asked, softer, crouching down.

Steve looked up with half-lidded eyes.  “Daddy?”  He asked, sounding lost, almost not there.

Then Tony saw it: the blood in the bear’s fir, the blood pooling on the floor, the lack of color in Steve’s face.  He called out for JARVIS to get everyone, anyone.  He held Steve’s face between his palms and looked him in the eyes, “Baby…what’s all this?  Where are you hurt?”

“…Am I in trouble?”

Tony swallowed hard.  He shook his head vehemently.  He patted Steve’s chest and shoulders, seemingly looking for a wound.  “No.  No, Steve.  You’re not in trouble.  You just need to tell me where you’re hurt.”

“A-arm.”  Steve raised his head a little to point at it with his eyes.

Tony’s eyes flashed to the injured arm, just floating in a puddle of blood.  “Were you shot?”  He asked incredulously.  Steve nodded slowly.

Thor rushed in with a burst of air, and was closely trailed by Clint, Bruce, and Natasha. 

Bruce knelt next to Tony.  

“Baba?”

Bruce reached for Steve’s hand and held onto it.  “Buddy, what happened? What do you need?”

“Bandaid,” Steve offered, weakly.

Bruce smiled through his concern.  “I think you’re going to need a little more than that, buddy.”  He brushed Steve’s blond hair out of his face.  “Does it hurt?”

“He was shot,” Tony interjected, urgency in his voice.  “I’m sure it hurts.”

“A little bit,” Steve said, breathless.  

Bruce kissed his cheek.  “You don’t need to pretend to be a strong boy right now, okay?  Papa is going to carry you inside and we’re gonna fix up your arm.  And we’ll get you some medicine to make you feel a little better, okay?”

Steve stared blankly.

Tony tapped the side of Steve’s face to catch his attention.  “Buddy?  Hey, can you repeat what Baba just said?”

“Medicine?” He offered.

Bruce kissed his cheek, then stepped aside to let Thor in to scoop him up.  Steve’s eyes felt heavy.  “Stay with me, little one,” Thor cooed, stroking his thumb over Steve’s face.

“Feel…dizzy.”

Thor rushed him in through the doors of the Tower.  “Keep those beautiful eyes open, little one.”  Steve tried to nod.  “I love to look at those beautiful blue eyes, did you know that?  I am quite convinced that these,” Thor tapped Steve’s nose, “are the most beautiful eyes in the universe.”

They rushed into the Tower and down to the lab, and by the time they had Steve lying face-up on a cleared-off lab table, he was starting to see spots.

“Hey, little one,” Natasha cooed.  “You need to keep your eyes open, okay?  Keep your eyes open, and why don’t you tell me what you want for your birthday?”

“B-Birth…day?”

“Yeah.  Your birthday is coming up.  What presents do you want?” Natasha asked as she caressed his face, keeping him conscious and distracting him from the others who were swarming and buzzing around him like bees.

Clint unzipped the Captain America suit to get better access to Steve’s arm.  Thor held the arm above Steve’s heart level to slow the blood flow.  Tony fetched Steve a blanket to keep him warm.  Bruce was here and there getting medicine and bandages.

“I…want…a tree…house,” Steve forced out, wincing as Clint moved his arm to take it out of the sleeve.

“You want a treehouse?” Natasha repeated, doing her best to keep smiling.  Steve nodded with his weak eyes.  “I bet Daddy can work something out.”

But he wasn’t looking at her anymore.  She saw his nearly-empty eyes widen in terror as Bruce walked toward with a syringe.  “No…” Steve managed to choke out.  “No…needles.”

“It’ll only hurt a touch,” Bruce promised, putting his hands in the air as if to suggest that he wasn’t out to hurt anyone.  “And then the medicine will make you feel so much better so I can fix your arm.”

Steve’s eyes overflowed with tears.

“No, no tears baby boy,” Tony said, rushing in.  “Medicine is going to make you feel so much better, I promise.  And a little poke won’t hurt any more than your arm already does.”

“If you let Baba give you some medicine, I’ll tell Uncle Phil to pick up some M&Ms on his way here, okay?” Clint added.

Steve didn’t offer any resistance, so Bruce stepped forward and inserted the syringe into Steve’s good arm.  It wasn’t long before it had knocked him unconscious.

+

Steve came to in his bedroom the next morning.  Bucky the bear—now clean and free of blood, just like Steve—was cuddled up next to him.  He was tucked up in all his blankets just the way he liked, and he was warm.  He looked down at his arm as he slowly remembered what had happened.  It was all bandaged and trapped in a sling.

He was pretty sure he was going to be in big trouble for this.

JARVIS must’ve announced that he was awake, because it was moments before everyone was in his bedroom—Momma, Daddy, Papa, Baba, Uncle Clint and Uncle Phil, but also Uncle Sam, Rhodey, and Fury.  they all crowded around his bed.

“How do you feel?” Bruce asked.

Steve felt a lot of things.  He felt guilty for breaking a rule, and also sorry for doing so.  He felt hungry and thirsty—what he wouldn’t give for chocolate chip pancakes, or those M&Ms Clint had promised!  He felt tired, despite having just woken up.  Losing blood takes a lot out of you, apparently.  He felt sick.  His head throbbed to the beat of his heart, and his tummy was still a little topsy-turvy.  He felt in pain; his arm hurt, of course, but it was manageable, survivable.  But, he also felt warm, cocooned in the softest blankets in the Tower, tucked in tight, no doubt by Thor (who was the best at that).  He felt wet.  His pull-up was definitely soiled, but he didn’t feel any shame about it.  He also felt like he needed to go potty.  He felt clean, like someone had just given him a bath, and he thought he smelled like Tony’s Old Spice, which was his favorite. And he felt safe.

“Lots better,” Steve said.

They all smiled at him, looking so peaceful, so relieved—not at all like he was in trouble, Steve noted to himself.  The whole room was warm with it, a calmness about them that Steve didn’t know what to call.  He had felt it before—the little Steve didn’t typically think back too far, especially pre-ice, but he thought he remembered the feeling from being with Bucky.  He hugged his teddy bear a little closer.

“We’re so happy to see you alive, Captain,” said the typically-steely Fury.  There was a sweetness, a smile on his face, something kind in his eyes.  “We have a mission set for you as soon as you’re back on your feet.”

“But this looks pretty nice, though,” Sam said with a laugh, gesturing around the room.  “I’d take advantage of this for as long as I could.”  He winked at Steve.  The others all laughed.

And there it was again, that rising ball of warmth, that feeling of being at home, but also never having left, that sense that he was always meant to be right here.

Steve tried to think of a word for the emotion.  The closest one he could come up with: _Family_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you guys so much for all the recent views, Kudos, and bookmarks. There will be a new oneshot up tomorrow, so stay tuned! :)


	8. Little Daddy Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve spends the day with Tony and Tony learns a little bit about youth and shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is out a bit later than expected-- I just wanted to make sure it was good, you know? Please enjoy!

It was morning, and Tony was leaned back in one of the kitchen chairs, slowly sipping black coffee.  Steve came bumbling down the hall from the elevator with a grin as wide as the sunrise on his face.  He burst into the kitchen.

“Where is everybody?” He asked, looking around at all the empty chairs.

“Doing paperwork.” Tony explained. “Uncle Phil and Uncle Clint are…still asleep, I think.”

Steve nodded along and sat in a chair opposite Tony.  He tried to imitate him, slouching down low in his own seat, the back of his robot pajamas riding up a little bit.  He tipped back his sippy cup of apple juice to mimic Tony’s coffee cup.

Tony rested a hand on Steve’s knee.  “You’re just like Daddy, aren’t you?”

Steve nodded.  “Except that I don’t like coffee,” he said.

Tony smiled at him behind his mug, tipped his head to the side a little.  “You’re cute, huh?”

Steve giggled and turned a little pink in the cheeks.  “Maybe.”

Tony got up to take his empty mug to the sink, but not before giving Steve a good morning kiss on the forehead.

“Do you want to hang out with just Daddy today?” He asked, turning off the faucet.  Seeing as no one else was really around, it would be a perfect _Steve & Daddy Day_.

Steve jumped up out of his chair and ran over to hug Tony tight around the waist.  “Can I help you in the lab?” He asked.  “I can help you invent things!”

Tony chuckled. “Oh yeah?  And what would you invent?”

“A cookie maker!” Steve said, hardly thinking about it for a second.  “A cookie maker that always makes cookies so we would never run out.”  Steve’s eyes sparkled.  “Or! Or, maybe I would make…a machine that does paperwork, so nobody has to do paperwork instead of playing anymore!”

Tony kissed Steve’s cheek.  “That sounds helpful,” he said.  “But are you _sure_ you want to help Daddy in the lab?  I don’t have to invent anything today— I just have to fix things.  That’s pretty boring.  We could do something more fun than that, if you want.”

Steve blinked up at him.  “Like what?”

“Like anything you want to do.”

“Can we…” Steve started cautiously. “Can we go to the zoo?”

Tony paused for a moment.  Even though it seemed a simple question, it was quite loaded.  Would there be a security team available to follow them around?  Or could Steve behave himself enough to keep a low profile?  None of them typically went out in public for fear of being spotted at all, but with Steve added into the equation, this was practically an unspoken rule.  

Tony gave Steve that look, that one which was the physical representation of a wary, “Buddy…”

“Daddy?” Steve asked, poking Tony in the side when he didn’t answer straight away.  “Daddy?  Did you hear me?  Can we go to the zoo?”  And when Tony hesitated again, he added, “I’ll be a really good boy.  Please?”

Tony was not able to resist those big, blue, pleading eyes with any part of him.  He pulled Steve in for a hug.  “Of course we can.”

Steve clapped his hands together.  “And can we have pancakes for breakfast?”

“Of course we can,” Tony said, warmly.  At least he had seen that one coming.

+

The car that pulled around for them was not one of Tony’s bright red, sporty things; it was, instead, a rather low profile black SUV.  They climbed in and Tony helped Steve buckle his seatbelt.

“Daddy?” Steve asked, eyes focused out the window at the high-rises passing them by.

“Yes, little one?”

“Do I have to be a big boy?  Or can I hold your hand?”

And how on earth was Tony supposed to say no to that?  That innocence, that tenderness, that warmth? Tony well knew that the world could be cruel, and yes, that was what they all were trying to protect Steve from, but at what price?  Tony watched Steve for a minute or two, the awe on his face, the way he pointed out things like people walking dogs and colorful signs.  He said something else that Tony didn’t catch.

“What was that, pumpkin?”

Steve turned around in his seat to look at Tony.  “Can, um.  Can I get a new stuffie, maybe?”

“Of course you can.” Tony said, trying to smile a little.  “What do you want to get?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said with a shrug.  “But I think Bucky wants a new friend.”

Tony nodded at that. “You put him in your backpack, right?”

Steve fished his backpack up from between his feet and unzipped it to reveal his teddy bear’s fuzzy head. 

“So do I have to be a big boy?” Steve blurted out, a hopeful look on his face.  

“No,” Tony said finally, searching Steve’s eyes.  “You can hold my hand.”  And it was almost as though he could see Steve’s heart as it leapt out of his chest with joy.  

“I’m so _excited_ ,” Steve whispered to himself.  

Tony smiled.  He was excited, too.

The car pulled around by the front gate and dropped them off.  They got out of the car and walked in, Tony stopping for a moment to purchase tickets and grab a map.  They stood near the entrance and made a game plan for the day.

“Where do you want to go first?” Tony asked.  “Birds?  Sea Lions?  Monkeys?”

“Monkeys, please!”

And so that’s where they went.

Tony would admit that he was nervous.  His sunglasses didn’t hide most of his face, and Steve clung to his arm like he was never going to let go.  But no one stared, really.  A few passing glances here and there, but no one was pointing and laughing.  No one recognized them.  As the day wore on, Tony found himself relaxing a little bit, enough to wrap his arm around Steve’s shoulders, and to kiss him on the cheek, once, when he was being particularly cute while watching the penguins waddle around.

He saw that Steve had no shame—no reservations about running around and jumping up and down and getting excited about things—and he envied that.  Here he was, thinking that all Steve needed was to be protected and practically caged up in the Tower, when what he really needed was space to just _be_.

“I never get to have soda!” Steve said as the pair sat down to lunch.  “I love Daddy Day.”

They were sitting at one of the little patio tables outside of the Zoo cafe under an umbrella, having lunch. Normally, this was around nap time for Steve, but he hardly seemed tired, which was highly unusual.  Tony was glad that it gave them more time to spend together.

Tony smiled. “Well, this is our little secret, okay?  So don’t go and tell the others that Daddy let you have a Coke.”

Steve giggled.  “Okay,” he said, picking up a dinosaur-shaped chicken nugget and drowning it in ketchup.  He had just stuffed it in his mouth when he asked, “Daddy?”

Tony tapped his lips with his finger, a little signal to remind Steve not to talk with his mouth full.

Steve swallowed quickly.  “Daddy, can we see the tigers next?  And then can we ride on the elephants?”

“Of course we can.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Why do you always say, ‘of course’?”

Tony smiled at that.  He took his sunglasses off and set them on the table so that he could see Steve a little better.  His little one looked the same as always—bright and bubbling over with pure, concentrated joy—but perhaps, now, a little pink with sunburn.  Tony loved everything about him.

“Because you deserve it,” Tony said, simply.  “Because you deserve everything.”

Steve beamed.  So bright, Tony had to put his sunglasses back on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't yet, please check out my new fic: Mommy Knows Best, featuring Mommy Natasha and... well. I don't want to spoil too much yet! I will say that it's a progressive, chaptered ageplay fic. I plan to update that either later tonight or tomorrow, and then this fic the day after, so stay tuned!


	9. Little Mommy Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha has a date.

Bruce will tell you it wasn’t his idea in the first place.  And that that was the only thing on his mind, that evening, as he poked his head into the living room. “Nat?”

She looked lazy on the couch in a blue plaid pajama set, bun on top of her head.  She was half reading, half explaining the plot of _Princess Bride_ to Thor, who found it most hilarious.  She looked up.  “Are you cooking dinner or something?” She asked Bruce.  “Smells amazing.”

Bruce smiled a little, but shrugged.  He had been cooking— _pappardelle_ with chicken and fennel _ragú_ and a chocolate raspberry cake for dessert, to be exact—but he wasn’t about to give himself away.  He pointed out into the hallway. “Can I see you for a minute?”

Natasha handed the book to Thor and followed Bruce into the hall  “What’s this all about?” She asked, laughing a little as Bruce ushered her onto the elevator.

Bruce gave her a coy look, his wrinkle-edged eyes gleaming.  “Afraid I can’t disclose that just yet.”

“Does it have to do with the fact that you’re wearing a suit?”

Bruce popped a smile at her.  “Not at all,” he said, just as the elevator came to a halt.

Natasha’s softly angled brows drew together toward the center of her forehead.  “Why are we on my floor?”

“Because you need to put on a dress.”

“A dress?”

“A _nice_ dress.”

She gave him a wary look as he closed the elevator doors behind her and left her there alone.  It was all rather odd, she decided.  Seven o’clock on a Tuesday night usually called for sweatpants and mac-and-cheese for dinner, not formal attire.  But Bruce wearing a suit—a great one, at that, black and trim with a sharp lapel and a gold tie—gave her a few suspicions as to what could possibly be going on.

Back down in the kitchen, Bruce was rushing around to make sure everything was just so.  He carefully placed two pearl white plates opposite each other at one end of the large, black-clothed table in the dining room, and surrounded them with polished silverware and crystal glasses.  He futzed with the lilies in the little vase between the plates, making sure they weren’t too tall so as to block conversation, then arranged the three tea candles in a triangle around it. 

Everything was _perfect._

“Miss Romanov?” Jarvis asked as Natasha was giving herself final tweaks in the full-length mirror.  “Your presence is requested in the kitchen.”

“Should I wear the gold or the silver earrings?”  She asked back, holding up one of each to her ears.

“The silver,” Jarvis replied, and then after a while added, “Enjoy your evening.”

She took the elevator down the living floor, the smell of food increasingly mouth-watering as she neared the kitchen.  She peaked her head in.  No one—

Bruce appeared around the corner, cheeks a little flushed like he’d been running about. “I can take you to your table, miss?”

Natasha nodded slowly.  Bruce offered his arm out to her and she took it.  He led her into the dimly lit dining room, where someone was already sitting at the table.

“Steve?” She asked, catching sight of the blond hair.

Steve giggled, laugh resonating throughout the large room. “Are you surprised, Momma?”

Bruce pulled out the chair and Natasha sat, crossing her legs carefully.  “Very,” she said, still looking around, taking in all the work that must’ve gone into it all.  “What’s the occasion?”

“Your birthday!”

“My birthday is on Friday.”

Steve nodded.  “But Baba said that you would be more surprised if it wasn’t on your birthday day.”

Natasha nodded once.  “He was right.”

“You look really pretty, Momma.”

And she did.  Of course she did.  The black velvet dress with the high neck and the capped sleeves, the strappy heels, her hair neatly tied up, and iridescent red lipstick.

She smiled and took her seat.  “You look very handsome, too,” she said, which was true as well.  Someone had managed to sit him still long enough to comb his hair, and his suit—navy with a very sleek profile, and gilded cufflinks that had to have been Tony’s— looked brand new.  Any other woman would’ve seen a handsome man sitting across from her, but Natasha saw the glittering blue eyes of her precious little boy peeking at her from around the lilies.

Steve sat up a little straighter at that, blushing a little bit.  “Thanks.”

Bruce-the-waiter came around to the table holding up a glass bottle.  “Sparkling cider?” He asked, trying to retain the most professional face he could muster.

“Yes, please,” Steve said, politely, eyes wide and a smile to match.  Natasha could tell it was taking most of his super-soldier strength to keep from bouncing up and down with pure excitement. 

Bruce poured his glass, then turned to Natasha.  “For you, ma’am?”  She nodded.  

Bruce then left and returned with their salads.  He and Natasha both were surprised that Steve ate the greens with no fuss and minimal mess (and plenty of ranch dressing, of course).

They sat then, waiting for the main course.  “Was this all your idea?” Natasha asked, seeking to get that great big smile to return to his lips, which it did.

“Yeah.  Baba had to help me with the food and stuff, and me and Daddy went shopping for my new fancy clothes, and Papa said he would distract you so me and Baba could set it all up!”

“Very well though-out,” she praised, as Bruce set plates of steaming, aromatic pasta in front of them.  “I’m very proud of you, little one.  This is the best birthday I’ve had in a long time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you like this, pretty please check out my other ageplay fic, "Mommy Knows Best" (find it on my profile!)


	10. A Little Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is forgotten in the hubbub of superhero life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, friends! You know how life goes. This is a fairly long chapter (almost 4k!) and it took me AGES to write and edit it, so I hope you like it. Fair warning, however, that it is a little sad. Sad Steve. But I promise it gets better by the end.

It was summer, and the Tower was operating normally, for a change, and it had been for a while.  Coulson, Clint, and Natasha were in and out on missions, Thor visited Asgard every so often,  Tony was bolted to his stool in the lab, and even Bruce had taken up some of his own research.  As such, the living room had gone from the heart of Tower life to simply a passing-through space.  They stayed for fifteen minutes, an hour sometimes, kicked their feet up on the ottoman and watched half an episode of something on the Discovery Channel.

Over the weeks, the empty space became Steve’s domain.  Many of his stuffed animals had migrated down to the sofa, and the TV played reruns of _Dora the Explorer_ , or whatever JARVIS had queued up.  Steve liked it, mostly.  The communal kitchen was close enough that he could walk over and fill his sippy cup up with water or milk and not miss any of his show.  The bathroom was close enough for potty breaks during commercials.  Bucky the teddy bear was always there, as well as his other friends, like the penguin—Charlie—his Daddy had bought him at the zoo.

Steve spent his afternoons in the living room.  Sometimes, he would spend the whole day there if no one came to take him upstairs for naptime.  It seemed all fine and good, and he tried to convince himself that it was—sometimes, he brought his blocks down from his room and built towers while he answered Dora’s questions, and that was fun—but something was definitely not the same as it used to be.

He saw the others at supper, and at bedtime, of course, if they were in.  But Momma had missions that took a few days sometimes, and Daddy had machines and meetings, and sometimes Baba _forgot_ , and Papa wasn’t even on the planet sometimes, and apparently Uncle Phil and Uncle Clint took long naps together and sometimes slept through food.  But it didn’t matter if there were any empty chairs at the table.  Steve just liked having people to talk to.

That night, Clint and Coulson had managed to wake up from their nap, and Bruce had been keeping track of time enough to make spaghetti for supper.

“Is Daddy in the lab?” Steve asked around a forkful of pasta.  “Baba, can we go down and see him after dinner?”

Bruce smile asked for forgiveness before he even spoke.  “Daddy’s really busy today, and he’s working on something dangerous, so I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

Steve knew better than to argue with that.  “Can we color?”

“That’s a good idea.  You can bring your coloring book down to my lab and color while I work.”

Steve’s thick eyebrows crawled together like caterpillars.  “Can you color with me?”

“Buddy, I’ve got…”  He took a sip of water just so he wouldn’t have to look at the disappointed, sinking look in Steve’s eyes.  “I’ve got a bunch of paperwork to fill out for this patent.  And.  It really needs to get done tonight.”

Steve set down his fork, half of his spaghetti still swimming around in tomato sauce on his plate.  “Uncle Phil and Uncle Clint?  Can you color with me?”

Clint shook his head and turned away.  Coulson was better at talking around these things, anyway.  “We’ve got a mission tomorrow, bud.  And we have to get all the stuff ready to leave early in the morning.”

Steve bit his lip.  “When is Momma coming home?”

“Thursday” Coulson said.

“How many—”

“Two days,” Bruce translated.

“And Papa?”

“Four.”

Steve sank down in his seat.  He looked at his dinner, growing cold in front of him.  “How much do I have to eat before I can leave the table?”

“That’s probably enough.  Can you go wash your hands and your face before you sit on the sofa?”  Steve nodded and slid his chair back.  “Hey, Steve?” Bruce asked before Steve had gone too far.

“Yeah?”

“Can you make sure you clean up your blocks in the living room before bedtime?”

+

Steve woke slowly, to the sound of Dora begging Swiper not to swipe, the TV too big and bright in the dark living room.  His face was glued to the sofa cushion with drool, but he managed to peel himself away.  He sat up, swung his legs underneath him.  He figured it was time for bed.

He rubbed his eyes.  “JARVIS? Can you tell me what time it is?”

“Twelve-nineteen, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve’s droopy-lidded eyes widened a bit at that.  “Like _midnight_?” He asked, looking up at the ceiling.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.  It is nineteen—now twenty—minutes after midnight.”

Steve stood up and grabbed his teddy bear and one of the blankets he’d brought down from his room.  He shuffled his heavy feet toward the elevator.  

“Please don’t tell anyone that I’m still awake, okay, JARVIS?  Usually Daddy or somebody wakes me up and if it’s Papa, he carries me up to my bed, but I think maybe they forgot.”

“It would seem so, Mr. Rogers.”

“Do you think Daddy could come and give me a kiss goodnight?”

“I apologize, Mr. Rogers, but Mr. Stark is currently—”

“Okay, that’s okay,” he said, voice tired and wet with disappointment.  

He dragged himself to his room and shucked off his clothes.  He stepped into a pull-up, backwards, and tugged it up over his hips.  He wasn’t very good at doing the zippers on the feetie  pajamas, so he decided on a pair of pants with dancing monkeys on them, and a plain white t-shirt.

Then, he climbed up into his bed.  He pulled the covers up tight under his chin, like Papa always did, though he wasn’t quite sure how to tuck himself in.  He snuggled Bucky to his chin and kissed the bear on the top of the head.

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Goodnight, Steve,” the bear said in Steve’s imagination.  Steve imagined, in the dim light, that the bear closed his little plastic button eyes, that his breathing slowed, and that he cuddled a little bit closer.

+

And then the morning came.  Steve woke to a knock on his bedroom door.  He sat up.

“Steve?” A voice called softly through the door.

“Baba?”

Bruce opened the door and walked into the room, arms crossed over his chest.  “What did I tell you to do before bedtime last night?”

Steve swallowed all the saliva that had suddenly collected in his mouth.  _The blocks_.  “I forgot.  Really forgot, not on purpose.  I just forgot, Baba.  I’m really sorry.”

“You should’ve done it right after I asked you,” Bruce said, a sigh on the edge of his voice.  “I’m sorry to have to start off your morning with a time-out, but you need to follow instructions, buddy.”

Steve looked up, wanting to say something and knowing he shouldn’t.

“Look, if you’re good about it, and you just sit down in the corner and you don’t fight it, I’ll make it ten minutes, okay?  I have a lot of stuff to get done today, so please don’t make this difficult for me.”

Steve nodded obediently and climbed down from his bed, Bucky tucked up under his arm almost instinctively.

“You know the rules, bud.  No toys in time-out.”

Steve placed Bucky back on his bed and walked over to the corner of his room that had been dubbed, ‘The Time-Out Spot.’  There weren’t any toys within an arm’s reach, and he turned around to face the corner so that he couldn’t be distracted while trying to think about what he’d done wrong (or whatever the point of a time-out was, anyway).  He sat down, crossed his legs, and tucked his hands in his lap.

“Thank you,” Bruce said, finally letting out that sigh.  He set his watch timer and positioned himself in the doorway to keep watch.

It was a long ten minutes.  Still sleepy, Steve was having a hard time keeping his eyes open—falling asleep in time-out was a no-no—and Bruce had left his cup of coffee on the kitchen table, a fatal mistake.  Steve tried to fill the time counting as high as he could, all the way up to a hundred, and all the way back down.  Bruce was mostly impatient toe-taps and too-long glances at his watch.

When the alarm finally sounded, Steve waited for Bruce to tell him that he could get up.

“Thanks for taking your punishment so well, buddy.  Hugs, and then breakfast, okay?”

Steve pulled himself up and went over to wrap his arms around Bruce.  “Can we have cuddles?” He asked, not wanting to let go.  “Just for a couple minutes?”

Bruce winced.  “I…You know I’d love to, Stevie, but.  I’ve got a lot of stuff to do today.  Maybe later, maybe tomorrow morning, okay? 

Steve nodded.  He grabbed Bucky from his bed and followed Bruce down to the kitchen.

Clint and Coulson were sitting at the table, finishing up their breakfasts.  Steve ran over to give them hugs.  “Uncle Clint, did you make pancakes for breakfast?”

Clint stood and shrugged on his jacket.  He gave Steve a kiss on the cheek.  “There wasn’t any time, buddy, I’m sorry.  I promise, the morning after we get back, I’ll make all the chocolate chip pancakes you can eat.” Steve nodded, a little hopeful.  

Coulson squeezed his shoulder just as he turned to go.  “We’ll see you later, Stevie.  Behave yourself, okay?”

“Bye,” Steve said, waving as he watched them get on the elevator.  He sat down at the table.

Bruce set a plate with two pieces of buttered toast in front of him, before kissing him on the top of the head and heading for the elevator himself.  Steve looked at the bread and sort of pushed it around his plate for a bit.  He sighed. Jam was going to be the closest thing to syrup he could get that morning.

After he’d eaten, Steve took his plate to the sink, then made his way to the sofa in the living room and set up shop for the day.

He liked Bucky to have his own cushion, reasoning being that he thought Bucky would like to have his own space, considering that the bear spent most of its time lodged in Steve’s arm pit or crushed against his chest.  So he sat the bear on the separate cushion just next to his and put a small blanket over its lap.

“JARVIS?  Can you put _Dora_ on the TV, please?

“Mr. Rogers, might I suggest removing your soiled undergarments before you start watching television?  There is a chance that you may contract a rash.”

Steve was comfortable.  Yeah, his pull-up was a little squishy, but it was bearable.  No one was around to help him wipe up, anyway.  He would just stay in his jammies for a while.  “No, thank you,” he told JARVIS.

“Mr. Rogers, I would really advise against—”

“Can you _please_ just put _Dora_ on the TV?”

“Yes, Mr. Rogers,” said the robotic voice, though you could almost imagine a hint of a sigh in there.  The TV reluctantly flickered to life.

And then Steve didn’t have to think about anything else.  Dora and Boots filled the big screen with adventure and laughter and pressing questions, and Steve was fully engrossed in it.  He helped Dora climb vines in the jungle, find where she dropped her backpack in the swamp, and he even saved Boots from getting eaten by a crocodile! He repeated back the Spanish words with practiced fluency.  _Rojo_ means red!  _Dos_ means two!

About eight or nine episodes in, he noticed that his bottom was getting kind of itchy.  He squirmed around, trying to relieve the itch, but ended up having to put his hand down the back of his pull-up to scratch.  By eleven episodes, it started to burn a little.  This had never happened before.

JARVIS paused the TV.  “Mr. Rogers, might I suggest a restroom break?”

Steve nodded and hopped up.  He ran for the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him.  He shucked off his pajama pants and pull-up and looked down at himself, eyes very wide all of a sudden.

He had these little red bumps _all over_.  They itched, they burned, and Steve didn’t know what to do.  Tears prickled at his eyes.

“JARVIS, can you get Baba, please?”

“Dr. Banner is not in at the moment.  He left thirteen minutes ago for an appointment.”

Steve sniffled.  “Can you get Daddy, then?”  He hiccuped.  “And tell him I really need help, please.”

Approximately five minutes later, a greasy, bags-under-eyes Tony appeared at the door, looking exhausted with the situation before even asking about it.

“It’s really itchy, Daddy, and it hurts, and I didn’t know how to fix it so I told JARVIS to get you because Baba is gone.”

Tony assessed the damage, trying to be the least invasive he could.  “Diaper rash?” He asked, sort of to himself.

“I’m a big boy.  I don’t wear diapers,” Steve said, a little weaker than usual.  In all honesty, he didn’t care what it was, he just wanted it off his bottom.

“Is this from your nap?” Tony asked, terribly confused, as he rifled through the cupboards and the drawers for some kind of ointment.

Steve shook his head.  “I didn’t have a nap yet.”

Tony paused.  He turned to look at Steve, who was standing bottom-half-naked on the bathmat, both sets of cheeks bright red, his eyes with that glassy sheen of tears.  “What do you mean, you didn’t have a nap?”

Steve shrugged.  “Naptime is after lunchtime and Baba didn’t make lunch yet.”

“Steve, it’s almost three-thirty.”  Steve shifted uncomfortably.  “Is this pull-up from _last night_?”  Steve nodded.  Tony wiped his hand over his face.  “Why didn’t you take it off?”

“I…I kinda forgot.  And no one told me to.  And I didn’t think it was gonna hurt this bad.”

Tony’s immediate instinct was to scold him, to tell them that he needed to pay attention to that sort of thing.  But the kid was crying.  He had a diaper rash.  He hadn’t eaten since breakfast.  Tony pulled him into an awkward little hug.

“I’ll go get you some underwear, okay?  We’ll find some ointment and get this taken care of, then I’ll make you a sandwich.”

+

Steve was starting to see a connection.  If there was something bad that happened, someone always came for him.  He left his toys out, which meant a time out, but Bruce gave him hugs afterwards.  And he had stayed in his pull-up all day and gotten a rash, but at least Tony came and took take of him.  He didn’t like the bad things, of course, but he _did_ like the attention he got because of the bad things.

At first, he tried making up the bad things.

This sent both Bruce and Tony into a frantic state; they ran up to Steve’s room to find that he was _not_ , in fact, “bleeding very badly” from his leg, and was, instead, sitting amongst teacups and a little porcelain kettle, preparing for a tea party.

“Surprise!” Steve shouted, standing up and running over to the men for a hug.  

Tony stepped back.  “You’re not…”  Steve smiled so big, so hopeful.  “Steve, you gave me a heart attack.”

The smile fell from Steve’s face.  “I…”

“Bruce and I have _work_ to do.  You can’t just say things like this, Steve.  I’m in the middle of something _very_ important and _time sensitive_.  You scared us to death, you interrupted our work—”  Tony punctuated his sentence by leaving the room.

Steve’s lip wobbled.  “I’m sorry, I just thought…”

“Ever heard of the story, ‘The Boy who Cried Wolf?” Bruce asked, hands on his hips, exhaustion in his voice.  He tried to keep an air of compassion, because he knew why Steve was doing this.  But there were things to be done.

Steve shook his head. “No.”

“I’ll read it to you for bedtime.”

Needless to mention, Bruce couldn’t make it for tuck-in that night.  No one did.

So, the next day, hours before Natasha was slated to return, and while the Tower was quiet with inactivity, Steve asked JARVIS to pause _Dora_ on the TV.  He got down from the couch, leaving his teddy bear to stand guard, and crept into the kitchen.  He went to one of the drawers—one of the drawers he really wasn’t supposed to go into—and he pulled out the heaviest cast-iron frying pan before closing it back up.

Even little Steve noticed that there was an abundance of windows in the Tower.  Tony seemed to like including them in his designs; there were windows in virtually every room, even if they didn’t have outside walls.

There were two windows in the communal kitchen.

Steve reared back and swung, shattering both windows into powdered glass instantly.  He dropped the pan, then, looking at what he’d done, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it, really. On one hand, he had a little tangled knot of guilt rolling around in the pit of his stomach, because, well, it was mostly forbidden to swing heavy metal objects at glass things in the house.  On the other hand, however, as the alarm sounded, his heart rate quickened.  Daddy was going to come for him.

He heard Tony’s heavy footsteps in the hallway.  “I swear to God, Steve, if this is another false alarm—”  Steve heard Tony’s shoes crunch in the pieces of glass, and then watched Tony’s eyes follow the trail of damage from the glass, to the broken windows, to the pan resting by Steve’s foot.

The man didn’t even attempt to contain himself.

“What the _hell_ were you thinking!? Steve, you can’t just—I mean, for Christ sakes!”  Tony paced around, hands on his hips, just shaking his head.  “I should be able to go down to the lab without worrying that you’re going to throw a _frying pan_ through a fucking _window_! What has gotten into you?”

Steve shrugged and looked up at him blankly.  “Are you gonna give me a spanking?” He asked, but there was next to nothing in his voice, just the words. 

 Tony put his face in his hand.  “Are you hurt?”  He asked, using his ‘Daddy voice’ instead of his ‘angry Tony voice.’

“A little bit.”  Steve showed him his arms, a few scrapes and cuts.

Tony sighed and got down on his knees, crouching so the he and Steve say eye-to-eye.  “Why…why on earth would you do that, Steve?”  He asked, voice even softer than before.  “You could’ve gotten seriously hurt.”

Steve shrugged again, and refused to look Tony in the eye. 

“Did you _want_ me to spank you?” Tony ventured.

Steve looked up, though not at Tony.  He nodded once, very small.

“But…why?”  Tony’s eyebrows knitted together.  “Why would you want me to spank you?”

Steve swallowed hard.  “‘Cause cuddles come after spankings.”

Tony knew that he had been neglecting Steve a little, lately.  He knew.  Banner was around, and Clint and Coulson…usually, at least.  And Steve had always been good about playing on his own.  

But how long had Steve been playing on his own?

Steve’s eyes were big and round and something in them told Tony that it had been a while.

“C’mon, buddy,” Tony said, at last, beckoning Steve over in a path that didn’t have him tramping over broken glass in sock feet.

“How many spankings?” Steve asked, quietly, as Tony grabbed his arm.

Tony shook his head.  “We’re going upstairs.  You’re gonna to put your jammies on, and we’re gonna have a little nap, okay?”

Steve’s eyes lit up.  “You, too?” He asked.

Tony nodded.  “Cuddles and a good, long nap.”

+

Steve woke, two hours later, in an empty bed.  He reasoned that Tony had gone back down to the lab.  The cuddles had been nice, but he was alone again.

“JARVIS, can you please tell me,” yawn, “what time it is?”

“Four twenty-seven.”

Steve wasn’t the best at time, but he figured that there was enough for a _Dora_ episode or two before someone made dinner.

He got out of bed, Bucky the bear in tow, and made his way down to the living room.

The first thing he noticed, when he got there, was that there was no evidence of his frying pan incident in the kitchen; the glass had been swept up, and the broken windows had been replaced with new ones.  He walked around the corner to find that the living room itself was rather full of life again.

Natasha was there, talking animatedly about her mission and Clint was teasing her about her storytelling skills.  Everyone else was laughing—Bruce and Tony from the loveseat, Coulson from where he was standing behind Clint and giving him a shoulder massage, and Thor from where he was sprawled out all over the middle of the floor.

Steve ran to join them, sitting in the spot on the sofa they had saved for him, between Natasha and Clint, who seemed more than happy that he was there.

“Surprise!” Tony said, a little jokingly.

Steve beamed.  “I thought everyone was busy!”

Bruce hung his head a little.  “We were.  Or, we thought we were.”  He patted his lap, and Steve got up to go over and sit on it.  “We had all these ‘big, important’ things to do, but we forgot that you’re the biggest, most important thing in our lives.  We got all caught up in all the stupid _stuff_ we had to do…and we all just assumed that someone else was looking after you.”

Steve’s eyes, still alight, swallowed the words with understanding.  “That’s okay, Baba.”

“No, it’s not, Stevie,” Tony said, a sad little smile on his lips.  “We’re supposed to take care of you.  Every single day.  All the time.  We’re not supposed to leave you alone.”

Steve nodded.  “I was a little bit lonely.”

Bruce kissed his cheek.  “I’m so sorry, buddy.”

“I forgive you.”  Steve bit his lip.  “I’m sorry I did all those bad things.”

“You’re forgiven,” Tony said, very much in love with the smile that returned to Steve’s face.

“We’re going to take a vacation,” Natasha said.  “All of us.  No work, just playtime.”

Steve bounced up and down.  “Where?”

“Wherever you want.”

And _oh_ , did Steve have his ideas about _that_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect another update within the next few days, and there will also be a "Mommy Knows Best" update on Sunday. Thanks to all you lovely humans for the Kudos and comments--they really make my day! Love you all.


End file.
